Editor Charles H. Smith's
Note: A report printed in the 26 September 1857 number of Chambers's
Journal. No by-line is given for this work, but considering Wallace's
interest in the Dyaks, the place and time period involved, the attention
to detail, and the fact that only a handful of people from that period
could have produced such a piece, there seemed to be a fair chance he
wrote it. However, information has recently been presented that demonstrates
the author was actually Revd. Andrew Horsburgh, a missionary who worked
in Sarawak during that period. Original pagination indicated within double
brackets. To link directly to this page, connect with: http://people.wku.edu/charles.smith/wallace/S034.htm

[[p.
201]] The Dyaks live in communities of from ten or twenty to forty
families, all of them residing in one house under the headship of one
tuah, or elder, whose influence among them depends very much on
his personal qualifications. The house in which each community lives is
an edifice of from fifty to a hundred yards in length, and raised on posts
eight or ten feet high. Its framework is constructed of posts lashed together
with split rattans; while the roof and partitions are composed of attaps,
a kind of thatch, so simple and useful as to merit a distinct description.
It is made of the leaves of the Nipu, a palm which grows in the mud on
the banks of the rivers, and differs from most other palms in having no
trunk, being merely a collection of fronds proceeding from one root. Each
frond consists of a stem or mid-rib, about twenty or thirty feet in length,
on each side of which grow a series of leaves, two or three feet long,
and two or three inches broad. To form attaps, the Dyaks cut off these
leaves, and wind them over a stick a yard long, making them overlap each
other, so as to become impervious to rain. They then sew or interlace
them all firmly with split rattans; thus forming a sort of leaf-tile,
at once strong and light, and well adapted for excluding both sun and
rain. The house is divided longitudinally in the middle by a partition,
on one side of which is a series of rooms, and on the other a kind of
gallery or hall upon which the rooms open. In these rooms, each of which
is inhabited by a distinct family, the married couples and children sleep;
the young unmarried women sleep in an apartment over the room of their
parents, and the young men in the gallery outside. In this gallery likewise,
which serves as a common hall, their principal occupations are carried
on; and here the planks of their war-boats, their large mats, and all
their more bulky articles, are kept; and the grim trophies of their wars,
the scorched and blackened heads of their enemies, are suspended in bundles.
The floor is a kind of spar-work, composed of split palm-trunks, and raised
ten or twelve feet from the ground, access being given to it by a ladder,
or more frequently by a log of wood cut into the form of steps. Connected
with the gallery, and running along the whole length of the house, there
is a broad platform on the level of the floor, upon which the Dyaks spread
out their rice after harvest, and other articles they wish to be dried
in the sun.

Thus,
a Dyak house is rather a singular structure; and when imbosomed, as it
often is, among cocoa-nut, plantain, and other fruit-trees, forms a quietly
pleasing and picturesque object, suggestive of much social happiness enjoyed
in a simple state of society. It awakens, moreover, ideas of a higher
kind, for it is a sign of the presence of all-subduing man on the confines
of the jungle that is yet to fall before his axe.

The
materials of which these edifices are constructed are so fragile that
they require to be rebuilt every five or six years, and when this necessity
occurs, the Dyaks, instead of erecting the new house in the immediate
vicinity of the old one, generally remove to a considerable distance.

From
the above description, it will be seen that a Dyak house may with more
propriety be called a village, as it is the residence of a score or two
of families who live in a series of rooms under one roof, and all of whom
look up to one tuah, or elder, as their head. These houses are sometimes
in groups of two or three, but more frequently they stand alone; and thus
it happens that if the tribe is populous, it may be scattered over a very
great extent of country.

Besides
the tuahs, there is another and superior class of chiefs called orang
kaya (rich men), grave steady old men of good family, who, when young,
have distinguished themselves by their courage; and who, in their riper
years, are regarded as discreet judges in weighty matters of the law.
Even the power of an orang kaya, however, is extremely limited. He has
no actual authority over his followers, so as to compel them to do anything
against their will; his superiority is shewn only in leading them to battle,
and acting as a judge in conjunction with other chiefs. In other respects,
the chiefs have scarcely any distinction. They work at their farms and
their boats as hard as their own slaves; they wear the same dress, and
live in the same manner as the rest of the community; their only token
of chieftainship being the respect which is voluntarily accorded to their
personal qualities, and the deference paid to their opinion. To an assembly
of chiefs, all disputes are referred, and their decisions are given in
accordance with their own customs, which, besides guiding the verdict,
generally settle the penalty which shall be inflicted on the aggressor.
Cases which, from want of evidence or from uncertainty of any kind, cannot
be thus decided, are settled by an appeal to superior powers in an ordeal
by diving.

When
both parties in a dispute have agreed that it should be referred to the
diving ordeal, preliminary meetings are held to determine the time, place,
and circumstances of the match. On the evening of the day previous to
that on which it is to be decided, each party stakes in the following
manner a certain amount of property, which, in case of defeat, shall come
into the possession of the victor. The various articles of the stake are
brought out of the litigant's room, placed in the verandah of the house
in which he lives, and are there covered up and secured. One man who acts
as a kind of herald then rises, and in a long speech, asks the litigant
whether he is conscious he is in the right, and trusts in the justice
of his cause; to which the latter replies at equal length in the affirmative,
and refers the matter to the decision of the spirits. Several more speeches
and replies follow, and the ceremony concludes by an invocation of justice.
In the meantime, the respondent deposits and secures his stake with like
ceremonial in the verandah of his own house; and early in the morning,
both parties, accompanied by their respective friends, repair to the bank
of the river to decide the contest. Either party may appear by deputy,
a privilege which is always taken advantage of by women, and often even
by men, for there are many professional divers who, for a trifling sum,
are willing to undergo the stifling contest. [[p.
202]] Preparations are now made: the articles staked are brought
down and placed on the bank; each party lights a fire, at which to recover
their champion, should he be nearly drowned; and each provides a roughly
constructed grating for him to stand on, and a pole to be thrust into
the mud for him to hold by. The gratings are then placed in the river
within a few yards of each other, where the water is deep enough to reach
to the middle; the poles are thrust firmly into the mud; and the champions,
each on his own grating grasping his pole, and surrounded by his friends,
plunge their heads simultaneously under water. Immediately the spectators
chant aloud at the top of their voices the mystic, and perhaps once intelligible
word lobon-lobon, which they continue repeating during the whole
contest. When at length one of the champions shews signs of yielding,
his friends, with the laudable desire of preventing his being worsted,
hold his head forcibly under water. The excitement is now great; lobon-lobon
increases in intensity, and redoubles in rapidity; the shouts become yells,
and the struggles of the unhappy victim, who is fast becoming asphyxied,
are painful to witness. At length, nature can endure no more; he drops
senseless in the water, and is dragged ashore, apparently lifeless, by
his companions; while the friends of his opponent, raising one loud and
prolonged note of triumph, hurry to the bank, and seize and carry off
the stakes. All this, however, is unknown to the unhappy vanquished, who,
pallid and senseless, hangs in the arms of his friends, by whom his face
is plastered with mud, in order to restore animation. In a few minutes,
respiration returns; he opens his eyes, gazes wildly around, and in a
short time is perhaps able to walk home. Next day, he is in a high state
of fever, and has all the other symptoms of a man recovering from apparent
death by drowning. The result of the trial, whatever it be, is regarded
as the verdict of a higher power, and is never questioned. Even in cases
where the loser knows he is right--when, for example, a man is unjustly
accused of theft, and conscious of innocence, appeals to the ordeal, and
loses his cause--he never thinks of blaming the decision, but attributes
his defeat to some sin, for which the superior powers are now inflicting
punishment.

I may
here mention a method of divination employed by the malos, or tinkers,
of Borneo, a race who, from their skill in working metals, travel and
are welcomed almost everywhere, and by whom--for they are the most superstitious
race with whom we have come in contact--are told stories wild as any in
the Arabian Nights. In a case of theft which happened at Banting,
suspicion was divided among three persons, and the principal malo man
of the place, by name Ramba, undertook to discover which of them was the
culprit. For this purpose, he took three bamboos, partially filled with
water, and, assigning one to each of the suspected persons, arranged them
round a fire with mystic rites and barbaric spells, in the full belief
that the bamboo assigned to the culprit would be the first to eject a
portion of its contents by ebullition. One of them at length did so, and
it so happened that it was the bamboo assigned to him against whom the
little evidence that could be collected bore hardest. Shortly afterwards,
another also boiled over, while the third would not do so at all. The
possessor of the first was accordingly declared by Ramba to be the culprit,
while the possessor of the last was declared to be certainly innocent.
Fortunately for the credit of the Dyaks, they would not act upon the information
thus obtained; and unfortunately for the credit of the diviner, it was
afterwards discovered that he whose bamboo would not boil over was the
thief.

Next
to the chiefs, the most important class among the Dyaks are the mannangs,
who combine the functions of doctor and priest, and who are in great request
in all cases of public or private calamity or rejoicing. They are composed
of both sexes, some of the males being dressed as women--an innocent relic
of some forgotten custom. Mannangs marry and work at their boats, houses,
and farms, in all respects like other Dyaks, from whom they would be undistinguishable,
except when employed on important occasions for their services, for which
they are paid. Many of the candidates for admission into the fraternity
are blind, and choose it as a profession; while others are tempted by
ambition. Mannangs, however, are not held in much respect; they are looked
upon in a great measure as a set of pretenders, whose principal object
is to extract money from those who employ them; and are regarded as the
degenerate descendants of a former race of powerful ghost-expellers, soul-compellers,
prophets, priests, and healers of bodily ailments, whose mantles have
not fallen upon their successors.

I cannot
describe from my own knowledge the manner of making a mannang, as I purposely
avoided witnessing it, but I believe the ceremony to be as follows: A
number of mannangs assemble at the house of the candidate's father, and
seating themselves in a circle, with the candidate in the centre, one
of them begins a low monotonous and dreary chant, which it is most dismal
and irritating to be compelled to listen to, while the rest at stated
intervals join in chorus. This portion of the ceremony takes place in
the presence of a large number of spectators, who on its conclusion are
excluded from the room, and the subsequent initiatory rites are performed
in private. The door is shut, the apartment is darkened, and a solemn
silence prevails; a fowl is sacrificed, and its blood sprinkled around
the room. The head of the candidate is 'split open' with a sword, in order
that his brain may be cleansed from that obtuseness which, in the generality
of mankind, precludes the knowledge of future events. Gold is placed in
his eyes, to enable him to see the spirits; hooks are inserted into his
fingers, to enable him to extract, from the bodies of the sick, fish-bones,
stones, and other foreign substances; and his senses generally are in
like manner supernaturally strengthened. He then emerges a perfect mannang;
and in order to complete his education, requires only to be taught the
tricks and chants of the brotherhood.

The
custom the Dyaks have of head-hunting has been frequently mentioned; but
I am not aware that any account has as yet been given of the ceremonial
attending the capture and storing up of the trophy. When a head has been
taken, the brains are removed, and the eyeballs punctured with a parang,
so as to allow their fluid contents to escape. If the boat in which the
fortunate captor sails is one of a large fleet, no demonstrations of success
are made, lest it should excite the cupidity of some chief; but if she
has gone out alone, or accompanied only by a few others, she is decorated
with the young leaves of the nipu palm. These leaves, when unopened, are
of a pale straw colour, and, when cut, their leaflets are separated and
tied in bunches on numerous poles, which are stuck up all over the boat.
At a little distance, they present the appearance of gigantic heads of
corn projecting above the awning of the boat, and amongst them numerous
gay-coloured flags and streamers wave in the breeze. Thus adorned, the
boat returns in triumph; and the yells of her crew, and the beating of
their gongs, inform each friendly house they pass of the successful result
of their foray. The din is redoubled as they approach their own house.
The shouts are taken up and repeated on shore. The excitement spreads:
the shrill yells of the women mingle with the hoarser cries of the men,
the gongs in the house respond to those in the boat, and all hurry to
the wharf to greet the victors. Then there is the buzz of meeting, the
eager question, [[p. 203]] the boastful answer,
the shout, the laugh, the pride of triumph; and the gallant warriors become
the cynosure of every eye--the envy of their equals, the admiration of
the fair. When the excitement has in some degree subsided, the crew, leaving
some of their number in the boat, go up to the house, where a plentiful
supply of siri, pinang, and tobacco are produced, and over these Dyak
cheerers of the social hour, the event is related and discussed in all
its breadth and bearings. At length they prepare to bring the trophy to
the house. A long bamboo is procured, and its lower joint split into several
pieces, which are then opened out and wrought by means of rattans into
a sort of basket. Into this basket the head is put, and is carried by
the chief man in the boat from the wharf to the house, in the doorway
of which, and at the head of the ladder, the principal woman of the house
stands to receive it. The bearer, standing below, presents it to her,
and as she endeavours to take it, withdraws it: he again presents, and
again withdraws it, till, at the seventh time, he allows her to obtain
it. Thence she carries it to the bundle of skulls which hang in the open
gallery, and it is there deposited along with the rest. As night approaches,
preparations are made for drying, or rather roasting it. A fire is lighted
in a little shed outside the house; the head is suspended close above
the flames; and when it has been dried to satisfaction--that is, well smoked
and partially scorched--it is taken back and redeposited in the bundle,
to remain there till it is feasted. 'And what becomes of the flesh?' I
asked of an old warrior, who was displaying to me a recently captured
head, to which the scorched and shrivelled integuments still adhered,
while from the earlier skulls all trace of flesh had long since disappeared.
With the utmost nonchalance the savage replied: 'The rats eat it.'

In the
meantime, friends, chiefly the young of both sexes, resort to the house
to congratulate the successful warriors. Siri and pinang, the never-failing
accompaniments of a Dyak meeting, are produced in great quantities; the
gongs and drums are beaten throughout the whole night; and the victors,
amid scenes of gaiety and sport, rejoice in the admiring envy of the youths,
and bask in the smiles of the fair. During the few succeeding days, feasting
proceeds to a certain extent, and a basket of offerings to the spirits
is suspended on the top of the house; but the grand entertainment is delayed
till an abundant harvest should enable them to celebrate the head-feast
in a manner suited to the dignity of the occasion.

For
this important event, which frequently does not take place for two or
three years after the head has been taken, preparations are made some
weeks previously. Large stores of cakes and sweetmeats are provided, and
many jars of tuak, or native beer, are prepared; much siri, pinang, and
tobacco collected, and every preparation made for an extensive display
of hospitality. On the morning of the appointed day, the guests, dressed
in their best, and ornamented with all their barbaric finery, begin to
assemble, and rarely, except on such occasions as these, are their savage
ornaments seen. Such, at least, is the case among the Balos, a tribe who
are in a sort of transition state between ancient barbarism and modern
civilisation, and whose young men would now on ordinary occasions be ashamed
to appear in those fantastic ornaments, which a few years ago were the
delight of their hearts. I cannot say they have gained much in appearance
by the change. A handsome savage, in his embroidered chawat, and pure
white armlets shining on his dusky arms with his brass-wire bracelets,
his variegated head-dress of blue, white, and red, hung with shells, or
adorned with the crimsoned hair of his enemies, and surmounted by the
feathers of the argus pheasant, or by some artificial plume of his own
invention, girt with his ornamented sword, and bearing in his hand a tall
spear, as with free step he treads his native wilds, is a sight worthy
of a painter. The same individual, clothed in a pair of dirty ragged trousers,
with perhaps a venerable and well-worn shooting-jacket, the gift of some
liberal European, suggests ideas of anything but the picturesque or the
beautiful. Many of them, however, have adopted the Malay costume, which
is both civilised and becoming.

But
whatever costume they adopt, whether Dyak, Malay, or pseudo-European,
all are clothed in the best garments they can procure; and they come in
troops from the neighbouring houses to that in which the feast is to be
held. As they arrive, eight or ten young men, each with a cup and a vessel
of tuak, place themselves in a line inwards from the doorway, and as the
company enter, they are presented by each of the tuak-bearers with a cup
of the liquid. To drink is compulsory, and thus they all run the gauntlet
of all the cups. As tuak is not a pleasant liquor to take in excess--the
headache from it is tremendous--it is to the majority of them a penance
rather than a pleasure, and many attempt, but in vain, to escape the infliction.
In this manner the male guests assemble and seat themselves in the gallery,
the chiefs being conducted to the place of honour in the middle of the
building, and beneath the bundle of skulls. All the rooms are at the same
time thrown open, and each family keeps free house for the entertainment
of the female guests. These, as they arrive, enter and partake of the
dainties that are provided for them; and many of the men being likewise
invited to join them, the feast of reason and the flow of soul proceed
as triumphantly as in similar cases in Europe. Cakes, sweetmeats, eggs,
and fruit are produced, discussed, and washed down with tuak, and occasionally
with a little arrack; while siri, pinang, gambier, and tobacco serve the
purpose of devilled biscuits, to give zest and pungency to the substantial
dessert. Conversation never for an instant flags; the laugh, the joke,
the endless chatter, the broad banter, and the quick reply, pass unceasingly
round the circle, and a glorious Babel of tongues astounds the visitor.
Outside, in the gallery, the same scene is enacted, but with less animation
than in the rooms, for, as there, the ladies form no part of the company--the
assembly wants all its soul, and much of its life. The girls of the house,
however, dressed in their gayest, and looking their best--'beautiful as
stars,' a Dyak once told me--have formed themselves into a corps of waitresses,
and hand round the viands to the assembled guests. As it is not according
to Dyak etiquette to take a thing when first offered, the young ladies
have it very much in their own power as to who shall be helped, and to
what extent--a privilege which, I have been told, they are inclined to
exercise with great partiality.

The
mannangs, male and female, next take part in the ceremony. They congregate
in the gallery, and seating themselves in a circle, one of them begins
his dreary and monotonous chant, while the rest at stated intervals join
in the chorus. They occasionally intermit their rhyme, in order to take
a little refreshment; after which, another of the brotherhood takes the
lead, and they continue their dismal monotone as before. After some time,
each of them is furnished with a small plate of raw rice, dyed a bright
saffron colour, holding which in their hands, they perambulate the crowded
gallery, and, still continuing their chant, scatter the yellow grains
over the seated multitude, 'for luck.'

In the
meantime, the object of all this rejoicing, the captured head, hangs along
with its fellows in the bundle almost unnoticed. In the morning, before
any of the guests have assembled, some one has stuffed a half-rotten plantain
into one eye, and fastened a piece [[p. 204]]
of cake and a little siri and pinang near (not into) its mouth. It is
then replaced in the bundle, and no more notice taken of it throughout
the whole feast, unless a few boys, warriors in embryo, occasionally advance
to inspect it. It has been said by former writers that it is stuck upon
a pole, and its mouth filled with choice morsels of food, but I never
saw this done, nor did any Dyak whom I have questioned know anything of
such a custom. As to the opinion that they endeavour to propitiate the
souls of the slain, and get them to persuade their relatives to be killed
also, or that the courage of the slain is transferred to the slayer--I
am inclined to think that these are ideas devised by Malays, for the satisfaction
of inquiring whites, who, as they would not be satisfied till they had
reasons for everything they saw, got them specially invented for their
own use.

Offerings,
however, are made to the superior powers. A pig has been killed early
in the morning, and its entrails inspected to furnish omens, while its
carcass afterwards serves as materials for a feast. Baskets of food and
siri are hung up as offerings to the spirits and to the birds of omen;
among which latter, the burong Penyala, or rhinoceros hornbill,
is reckoned especially the bird of the spirits. The grand event of the
day, however, is the erection of lofty poles, each surmounted by a wooden
figure of the burong Penyala, which is placed there 'to peck at their
foes.' These figures are rather conventional representations than imitations
of nature, and do not convey a very exact idea of the bird they are intended
to represent. Eight or ten such posts are erected, a fowl being sacrificed
upon each; and about half-way up the largest, which is erected first,
a basket of fruit, cakes, and siri is suspended, as an offering to the
spirits.

Meanwhile,
those who remain in the house still continue the feast, and those who
have been engaged in erecting the posts, return to it as soon as their
labour is finished. The festivities are prolonged far on into the night,
and they are resumed and continued, though with abated vigour, during
the two following days.

The
Dyaks are a comparatively sober people; they spend neither money nor goods
upon the indulgence of drinking; and now, that their constant fighting
is put a stop to, and the destruction of each other's property thus prevented,
I think it very likely that many of them may rise to considerable wealth;
and that they may ultimately become a more important social body even
than the Malays. The life of a Malay is a succession of expedients. If
he can meet a temporary want by a temporary contrivance, he is satisfied,
and contentedly allows each day to bring its own necessities and its own
supplies. But it is not so with the Dyaks; they are much more provident,
and seldom hesitate to undertake a little present trouble for the sake
of a future reward.